Page 40 of Forbidden War (Forbidden 2)
Our eyes meet as I start to wash his chest, making slow circles over his pecs. Goosebumps race down my arms as I rinse the suds and then work my way over his shoulders. Soap and rinse, one spot after another, my fingers brushing over the stray drops of water on his skin. It’s almost meditative for me, and I know it’s soothing for Marco, too. I can tell by the way his breathing slows and his body relaxes under my care. But it doesn’t cut the sexual tension. If anything, the more I touch him, the stronger the electricity pulses between us.
He tips his chin up as I wash his neck, re-dip in the water, and slowly, carefully, run the cloth over his face. His ears. The back of his neck. All places he could reach himself if he’d only ask for the washcloth, but he doesn’t. He just closes his eyes and sinks into my ministrations. My mouth is practically watering as I drink him up with my gaze. It’s been so long since I’ve taken my time with his body.
I take a moment to let myself appreciate my husband’s form. He’s pure perfection. Hard, toned, but not in the body-builder way. His muscles are sculpted, but more from taking care of himself than fanatically exercising. Sprinkle in good genetics and it all comes together to make the perfect man.
Working my way down, I pull back the covers, trailing the washcloth down the shallow dip from his rib cage to his pelvis. He moans lightly and runs a hand over his mouth.
“Does that feel good?” I ask.
“Lower.”
Pushing the covers lower, my breath hitches when I find him fully erect. He’s thick and swollen and I want to take him into my hand.
“You’re hurt,” I point out. “I don’t know if we should—”
“My head’s injured, not my dick,” he says.
The tip of his cock glistens. I feel my resolve weakening by the second. “Mmm…”
Holding the cloth in one hand, I grip his throbbing cock with the other and circle the tip slowly with my tongue. I know I shouldn’t be doing this. With the shock and the stress of the shooting, and his obvious physical injuries, what he really needs right now is to rest and heal…but he gasps so deliciously when I wrap my mouth around him.
And I want this, so damn much.
Carefully, and still oh-so-slowly, I run my wet, open mouth up and down his cock, licking the sensitive flesh and sucking softly as I go.
“Oh, fuck, Karina.”
His voice is throaty and guttural as he runs his fingers over the top of my head and threads them in my hair. My scalp tingles and I increase my motions just a bit. Just enough to make him groan again.
As I bob my head, sucking him down, I try to imagine pouring my love into him with this act, raising a storm of emotions inside me. I almost lost him. I could have been a widow, deprived of this very moment. Tears sting my eyes. I do a bad job of holding them back as I work his cock, savoring each stroke and lick, loving how he swells for me.
His abs tighten and release as I suck the head and swirl my tongue faster. Groaning louder, he starts pumping gently into my mouth in time with my motions. Yes. God, yes. He’s fucking my mouth, and I can’t get enough. When I feel him suddenly tense up, trying to ease back, I know he’s about to come. Instead of letting him pull out, I take him down in one gulp, all the way down, my lips closing around the very root of him.
“Karina, I—”
He cries out and thrusts once, twice, releasing a hot stream down my throat. I swallow every last drop, relishing the flavor of him, reveling in my power to give him this kind of healing. His chest heaves as he falls back against the pillow again, entirely spent.
“Come here,” he says, pulling me to him.
I tuck myself against his side, mindful of his injuries, sighing contentedly as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and presses my head against his chest with one hand. The tender embrace is unexpected, and I need it. I need it so much. Clinging to him, I let the tears fall.
“I almost lost you.”
He strokes my hair and holds me tighter.
“You have me, Karina. You’re not going to lose me. Not ever. I promise.”
